29.9.09

email excerpt:::22 September

The streets of Jakarta are speaking to me still---yesterday, in the crush of Busway transport, I reached up to grab hold of the passenger handle to find a note tucked into the plastic case. There, written on the back of a used ticket for 3500 Rp in black, blocky ink, the reminder to Haraplah! (Hope!). Which is an admirable admonition for any day, but this week especially as Sunday welcomed Idul Fitri, the Muslim equivalent of Christmas with all the festivity of a New York New Year's. The party began Saturday as the sun set, the final day of Ramadhan's fasting going up in a blaze of fireworks and drumbeats echoing along the corridors of Jakarta's slums. It was an incredible eruption of life and color and light---a party I got to watch all night long as well, seeing as I'd eaten dinner at a member's home that afternoon . . .

But anyway. Idul Fitri. For the Muslims, a party all night long and the promise of presents in the morning and a week's holiday. For the LDS missionaries, seven days of Not A Lot to Do. Jakarta's empty (or as empty as it could ever be) with families off visiting their childhood villages or far-off family, and those that are left are very decidedly Muslim and so very much off-limits. It's been a lot of walking and wandering mostly, desperate attempts to find people to talk to about the Gospel of Jesus Christ instead of the logistics of Hari Raya (which is also fun, just not quite as productive). Luckily, Keluarga S-- understands all too fully our predicament. They have been watching over us since day one, but this week they've stayed esp. close and caring and it's been a life-saver.

[The] family's just incredible and inspiring, a true and pure light among so much grime here in the city. Monday they had us over for FHE---all six of us, plus the Elders---which included a fantastic feast of all sorts of spicy entrees and cool desserts along with one of the most uplifting lesson I've heard in a long while.

So we had a most lovely evening there, and then today found Sister Stefi waiting for us outside our house first thing. Forget P-Day! she said. We're going out shepherding! And so out we went, searching out lost sheep and sharing Gospel messages. Sister Stefi knows absolutely everyone, and she doesn't bother with calling beforehand, either. We just show up at these less-actives doors and talk until we get up and move on to the next house, which may or may not be hours away. It was an adventure of the best sorts, the kind where you occasionally just turn to SisLily and bust up laughing. Where are we, who are we, what in the world are we doing, you know? Along the way she'd stop to buy us sweets or entertain us on longer drives with stories . . .always laughing, smiling, so happy. Oh, the whole family is just so full of joy. Sister Stefi dropped us off only a half an hour ago, after which we all set off at a run to get to the internet before the day was officially over. And now here I am, sitting here talking to the Papuan man next to me, who just agreed to come to Sacrament Meeting on Sunday. (!!!!) Life's a miracle, a beautiful thing.

always,
Sister E.

A big fat letter arrives,



click to enlarge
note address--
hint, hint.





in which we learn:
::Sister E. attends the Indonesian Branch and the English-speaking Branch each Sunday.

::she teaches English classes once a week to a group of children.

::kitties are cute; rats not so much. ". . .everything is miniaturized here and I don't mean just the McDonald's servings. The people are tiny, the doors short, the shops small -- but the cats? Oh, they're pocket-sized! [One of] the hardest things about Indonesia is stopping myself from picking up each little kitten and carrying it back home with me. Which would be a horrible idea, seeing as they're FERAL beyond all definition. But s'darn cute, I can hardly stand it. Note: Rats do not fall under this category. They seem to have missed the miniaturizing-laser-ray altogether. Some are bigger than the cats, no lie."

::she has been proposed to (on the bus), which she attributes to being a bule (foreigner).

::she might be suffering from heat stroke, the only explanation for the following: "SisLily and I want to go skiing first thing in 2011 b/c what I would give for snow again & also I will never from this point onward complain about the winter months." As E. herself might say, that is hil-ar-ious!

::an investigator showed up for a lesson. "Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles!. . . As far as my first-ever teaching experience could be, it was INCREDIBLE. . . .the 4 of us [sister missionaries] together were able to answer all his questions w/ scriptures and testify boldly of the truth. I think that's the key to teaching: testimony. Because honestly there's no way that 19 and 20 year-olds could go out and teach this gospel w/o the Spirit, and when you testify so sincerely about the things you hold most dear there's a lot of power in those words, a lot of promise."

Mission Possible in Steppings with Jesus!!!*

Email 16 September 09

*True Story bumper sticker I saw yesterday when riding the bus back home after one long, miserable day on buses across the city. God has a funny way of stepping in like that, doesn't He?

Halo semuanya!

So yesterday was my half birthday. . .by the Ides of March, I plan on loving every minute of this insanity. I plan on being able to understand what they're saying to me, and I plan on being able to talk right back. I plan on finally getting a handle Jakarta street maps and Blok M bus schedules, and I for sure plan on feeling that kind of fire that makes me never ever want to leave. Six months. Because things take time. And I am learning patience.

One thing I already love about Indonesia, however, is the overly-bright and courageously cheerful stationary products that I occasionally pass by on my way to market or home from Jakarta Raya. You probably know what I'm talking about---the classicly mangled English that comes out of these Asian countries in surprisingly insightful phrases. Or maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm so desperate for constant reminders of happiness that I find hope in these small moments, moments like "Maybe happiness is simplest" or
"Today is the best day of living because I own four cats." I also found quiet inspiration in this pithy phrase printed across a fellow passenger's bag on the busway: "You are flowerful in the storm that rages." But maybe most of all I liked this (somewhat legit!) statement, printed on a t-shirt in the pasar: "Find your passion and make it happen."

I think I've actually been trying to live this particular motto most of my life, but had forgotten to apply it to mission as of yet---find my passion? Sometimes that seems near impossible, amidst the endless traffic, the constant noise and rubbish, the hopeless poverty. But this week I feel like maybe I came a bit closer to that passion, a passion I've found to be teaching. Which we don't have a lot of opportunity for, to be honest with you. Though a 90% Muslim population in the 4th most populous nation means there's a good 29 million Christians still to reach, that same statistic applies to every day here and it's rare you find someone wanting to be taught even if you manage to find a Christian in the first place. Then, if you luck out with a phone number, chances are they're going to evade your call, or if you get all the way to a call and appointment, they're most likely not going to show up. That appointment I had to run to last week? No show. Same with two the next day. But that kind of despair only makes those rare teaching opportunities all the more beautiful, all the more valuable. At this point, 14 days into Indonesia, I've taught exactly two. But the power and truth I felt in those two hours was enough to make up for every busway rejection, every night stood up at the church.

I actually wrote you a letter last week . . .keep your fingers crossed and also your prayers constant and faithful----dropping that fat envelope off at the Kantor Pos in no way really aided in strengthening my faith in Indonesia. . . I'm on another hour's time constraint because there's still shopping to do and then guess what? I'm going on the radio. I know. Of all the things to tell your kids, right? Once upon a time, I did a weekly radio show in Jakarta, Indonesia . . . apparently a local English-teaching station asks us to come on and just talk for an hour so their listeners can get a feel for the language and also call in with questions. We are ridiculously excited, as you might imagine.

sampai menulis lagi,
Sister E.

28.9.09

When upon life's billows...

Email 09::09::09

Keluarga yang kukasihi:::

Cockroaches can fly. Did you know that? I didn't, not until my first night in Jakarta Selatan and one the size of my thumb winged it right into my face. You're imagining that I panicked a little, aren't you? And yeah, so maybe I did. But that was then. And it's now six days later. You can learn a lot in six days.

Like how to kill a cockroach without a second thought, or how to buy goda-goda from the man around the corner, or how you turn on the AC very first thing when you're home for the night, if you want to bring the heat down from a constant 30 degrees to a cool 29. And that's only the very tip of the iceberg when it comes to Jakarta.

Because heavens, is it something. There aren't words to describe it, and I might not even try. It's too big, too dirty, too busy, too absolutely crazy-insane. So for this email we'll stick to things a little closer to home. We've got a janji (teaching appt) in one hour, so it looks like another race against the clock this week, too.

A mission is hard, but everyone also says its the best possible thing they've ever done in their lives, and I've seen enough glimpses of that vision these past few days that I'm willing to hold on to figure that out for myself. I love Indonesia, for example. Really and truly one hundred percent, despite the heat, the humidity, the general disrepair and unfathomable poverty. Because above and beyond everything else, they are an incredibly optimistic people. I've touched on this before, I think, as far as language goes---remember belum vs. tidak? And they're always going on about semoga (hopefully), with a heavy dose of insha'Allah (God willing). But maybe one of my favorite examples of Indonesian optimism is in the humble busker. We naik bis (ride buses) to and from absolutely everywhere, these rotting little metal tins with their numbers painted in acrylic over the front window and sad sashes of decades-dirtied fabric along the top. They hardly make a full stop for their passengers in the first place, but buskers have an even harder time, jumping in and out of any passing bis with a running leap. Once onboard, however, they stand erect at the front, guitar/tambourine/harmonica/keyboard/take your pick held close like a child as they address us as their audience. Occasionally this means a short speech about the hard life of a mortal or the changing views of the modern world, but my favorite are the mini sermons that last a good full minute or so and call everyone to God before he launches into some song or other as varied as folk to rap. Lyrics? Maybe. If you can tell one word from another, or even so much as one note from the next. But they hack at it, oh they do. Wonderfully dedicated to their art and so serious, too. After their musical spiel (which honestly only lasts about two minutes and usually not an entire song) however, comes my most favorite part: the thank yous. Like notes prepared for the Academy Awards, they thank everyone for listening, their families for loving them, the bus driver for supporting them . . . the list goes on as if the great artist was invited to sing in the most grand of concert halls or most popular music venue in all of Jakarta. A quick shake of the money bag and then they're off at the next intersection, minutes before another busker arrives and the entire cycle begins again.

This is a very nearly constant part of my life, and one that saved me last Saturday. I was having a particularly rough time of it when some such busker hopped on the 62 out to Blok M and stood there so significantly, as if centering his soul before the performance. I couldn't help but smile, and by the end of his sincere attempt at song I was nearly laughing for the joy of it. How grand, how full, to take on a job so small with such intensity. In that moment, I could keep going. I could do this. I could do this for a long time yet.

My companion is Sister K--, a wee whisp of a girl from Malang. I am entirely convinced she is the reason Disney puts wide-almond eyes on every Princess---she has a stunning small face with the most startling eyes I've ever seen. She's very shy and crazy-quiet; she moves about on cat-paws, I swear, always there and ready to help. A little mother (Amy Dorrit, yes?) and big sister all in one.Whenever I'm sick (which happens a little bit more often than I'd like, but I was warned. Oh well. Nothing serious ever, don't worry) she stays close and takes care of me; she's very aware of life around her and takes care of most everyone, actually. She's the most senior sister here, too---going home in only two months! I like her rather quite a lot, though she refuses to speak the English I know she understands perfectly so sometimes it is frustrating when I desperately need something explained and she only hesitantly describes it in Bahasa Indonesia.

Luckily Sister S--, SisLily's companion, was studying to be an English Teach before her mission and takes every opportunity to practice the language. She's incredibly bubbly and lovable, really energetic and pretty much open to anything. The four of us all together have become pretty good friends together; we balance each other out nicely.

...there are a million more things to be grateful for, something I try to remember every day. Count your many blessings, right?

selalu,

Sister E.

Misi Indonesia Jakarta









With Pres. & Sister Marchant

at the Mission Home


8.9.09

FATE, kinda sorta

Olivia and Martha
serendipitously
(they only had to wait for about an hour)
met up with Sister E on her way from the MTC to the Temple

the Last HURRAH :: final MTC Email :: 08.27.09


:: Flight plans! [We'll spare you the details. In brief, SLC to LAX to Hong Kong to Jakarta, which in hours flying + layovers = ~forever & a day.]

:: It is indeed true that we call before we depart, but no one knows exactly how it works or just when exactly we get to call. So . . . sometime on Monday.

And finally, one last update from District 52B in the MTC:

::We have been practicing all week for our musical number in Sacrament Meeting this Sunday, Lead Kindly Light. This would be fabulous if half our Elders weren't tone deaf, and trying to rally them for choir practice was such a rodeo. I am also now lovingly mocked for using phrases like "more musically interesting" and "crescendo like the burning flame." Yeah. Never becoming defunct chorister for 19-year -old boys EVER again.

:: Elder Garrett has officially gained 27 pounds in the MTC. Elder Nixon is so proud.

:: Speaking of which, Elder Nixon is also going CRAZY. We need to get this Wyoming cowboy some wide open spaces, quick. He is currently wearing a paper bag on his head like a chef's hat.

:: We're still driving Brother Ross nuts with our idiomatic swap-overs in the language. Phrase of note this week? "di luar biru." Which is very much NOT "out of the blue" in INDO.

:: I'm the slavedriver in the packing arena, too. Managed to cut SisLily's suitcase from 28 shirts to 14, and that's only the beginning. Just trying not to make her cry at this point.

Okay, 17 minutes and I'm off. I'll leave a few minutes to get back on this afternoon in case you guys have anything quick to say, but until that letter and our phone call, Sampai Jumpa!

I love you.
E



20 August 2009 email excerpt

~laundry room letter writing~


Rhondeauvians (Naomi & Daniel) take part in the
fun and games at an Indonesian Independence Day party.


I love Indonesians. Already. I'm so glad you got the chance to meet them, to know them, to feel some part of the things I've been feeling this past week. Day after day it's a mixed blessing of terror and anticipation, counting down only 10 days until this is over and the mission really begins. But having met the Leo family, and daily speaking Indonesian, it only feels right. And that makes me feel strong. And it all comes together in a lovely little round of determination and a lot of hope. I can't bear to leave, I can't wait to go. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. There is always a bit of both, with so much to love.

But part of loving is leaving behind, and that makes it all the sweeter. Elder Nixon and Elder Garrett brought us our mail today (we have a P-Day arrangement that involves our envelopes for a Dr. Pepper or two) [Editor's note: Dr. Pepper at the MTC?!? Huzzah!]. Nixon hopping across the sidewalk so as not to step on the cracks. Greenwell and Meek caught up with us at lunch, sharing their swedish fish and chatting dalam Bahasa Indonesia. In the laundry room I wrote letters and talked to the Mongols, who told me that Mongolians do not understand the dual-consonant pronunciation of "OK" and simply say it "oak." You know? Just the simplest little things that I wish could live on forever, but know they're only so sweet and simple because they're meant to pass away.

I've been so blessed here.

There's really not much to say about this week at all---just packing in the preparation so we might have some chance at getting through our first few months in Jakarta. We're past the point of outlines and memorization though, so it's hard to keep focused. P-Day's been strange, sorting through clothes, deciding what to take and what to leave behind. And every day in class being reminded that there are only 10 days. 9 days. 8 days. Etc. So, you know. Life goes on, as it tends to do. Only it feels like it's going much too fast these days and then not quite fast enough.

--------

kasih selalu,
xoxo
E